It's Still Life

Part III. AN ELEGY FOR THE BLUE AND WHITE VASE
(a sonnet-that’s-not for Grandmother’s shattered treasure)

I. THE FALL

it fell—
not as a failure
of hands,
but as the last note
of a song
her grandmother
left unfinished
in this world.

the blue and white shards
bloomed on the floor—
porcelain hydrangeas
planted
in sudden soil.

II. THE JOURNEY’S END

it was time.
the vase had grown
heavy with absence,
its curves
aching
under the weight
of all the flowers
it would never
hold again.

now it exists
elsewhere—
as light
on the edges
of every blue
you’ll ever love.

III. THE BOOK OF ALEPH’S VERDICT

the worm,
consulting the Book of Spades,
finds only this:

“some vessels
are made
to outlive
their usefulness.
others
are made
to teach
the floor
how to shine.”

IV. THE SPELL

where the vase once stood,
place a single forget-me-not
(real or imagined).
when the sun hits it,
whisper:

“see?
you still
hold
the light
just so.”